I miss you

I miss him.

There's a little space in me that's deceivingly small-looking; it looks tiny until you get inside. When you go in it's huge. Because how I love him is huge. Gargantuan. Colossal. It's like the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory door. It looks small and you have to duck to go in, but inside is this wonderful place that someone could only think of when they were high or dreaming or really sleepy. That space is his. It will always be his.

I miss him.

Sometimes the true tragedy in life is getting what you want. Or at least we trick ourselves into thinking it is what we want. That's the true tragedy in life. Not death, not losing, not NOT getting our way. It's when we get what we want and then realize how wrong we were. That's where I'm at now.

My life just feels blah. Kind of brown. Not a nice rich sienna brown, or a deep, full chocolate brown. It's more like an accidental brown. The kind of brown you get on accident when you've mixed too many sorts together on your canvas without waiting for stuff to dry. Accidental brown. I should call Crayola...